


Day Job

by jaegermighty



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nanny, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/pseuds/jaegermighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought Danno was your boss,” Grace teases.</p>
<p>“I think we both know that we only allow him to think that,” Steve says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Job

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Основная работа](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589221) by [cicada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicada/pseuds/cicada)



> from a tumblr prompt "nanny/single parent au"

There are very few things that Steve enjoys less than picking Grace up from school – testifying at a court martial, maybe. That nightmare of an op in Seoul, back in ‘01, the worst mission Steve’s ever been involved with. Watching someone he loves in pain. Broccoli.

It’s got nothing to do with Grace, of course – Steve has a very short list of people he would eat broccoli for (even boiled, like Danny insists on doing to all the vegetables that cross his cutting board, eugh), and Grace and her nutritional paranoia are at the top of the list. It’s the school, see – the whole…process of it. It’s a private school, so there are no buses, and so every afternoon at three-thirty, every single person responsible for every single child lines up in their car along the narrow driveway that leads up to the front door to pick up the kids, who are usually let loose as soon as the bell rings to cause as much chaos as possible on the small playground outside. Add onto that the fact that some parents will skip the line altogether and park, causing more congestion and delays, not to mention the various distractions and last minute “oh crap I forgot” epiphanies that mean Grace sometimes doesn’t even make it out of the building until fifteen, twenty minutes after the bell, which is worth at least a couple extra runs through the line, and the result is just a giant fucking headache.

“Sorry, Uncle Steve,” Grace says breathlessly, clambering up into his truck a full forty minutes late. Steve only barely manages a smile for her, which she can obviously see right through, judging by the sheepish look on her face. “Hye-jin and I were working on our biology project but we spilled some superglue all over the floor and Mrs. Kim made us stay late to clean it up even though I told her that you were out here waiting, and Hye-jin’s auntie was waiting too! It was so inconsiderate,” Grace finishes with a flourish, tossing her floppy ponytail over her shoulder with a dramatic huff.

Steve nods somberly as he cuts off a middle aged father in an SUV, ignoring the blaring horn he gets in return. The guy had a shifty look to him anyway; he probably deserved it. “It’s alright honey, I didn’t mind the wait. Gave me time to catch up on my emails.”

Grace shoots him a deeply skeptical look. “I saw you through the windshield when I was walking up. You looked like you were being tortured.”

“Right. Well, I was frustrated – from all the emails.”

“Okay,” Grace replies indulgently, sounding so eerily like her father that Steve almost does a double take. “As long as you don’t have a headache or anything – you don’t have a headache, do you?”

“No,” Steve lies.

“Uh huh,” Grace says. “Do you want some ibuprofen? I have some in my bag.”

“You keep ibuprofen in your bag?”

“Danno gets headaches too,” Grace says matter-of-factly. “He says they’re because of you, but I think it’s just…you know.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “His temperament.”

Steve laughs out loud, the tension in his shoulders loosening as he gets farther away from the line of cars – and longer in Grace’s presence. “Gotcha. No, I really am fine. How are you? Did you have a good day? Other than the superglue, anyway.”

“I guess.” Grace shrugs, hitching her knees up against the glove compartment. Steve feels a little twinge; it wasn’t all that long ago that Grace’s feet didn’t even touch the floor, when she was sitting in his passenger seat. She’s all limbs and angles now, though–shooting up faster than any of them can keep a handle on. “You know, it’s whatever. Hey – can we have pizza tonight? The homemade kind.”

Steve mentally reviews the contents of the Williamses’ fridge and nods. “Sure. We’ll have to stop by the store real quick, but we can do that. What kind?”

“Just cheese. Like lots of cheese.” Grace smiles dreamily, leaning her head back against the seat. “I’ve been dreaming about cheese pizza _all day_.”

Steve grins to himself. “Cheese pizza of your dreams – check. Anything else?”

“Mochi,” Grace says. “Coffee flavor.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve says, aiming his truck towards the nearest Foodland. “You’re the boss.”

“I thought Danno was your boss,” Grace teases.

“I think we both know that we only allow him to think that,” Steve says. 

 

 

It’s an odd turn that his life has taken, Steve’s not denying that. Catherine once said that it was as if when Steve left the Navy, he left his entire resume behind with it. 

“I mean, I’m not judging or anything,” she’d said, “but…childcare? Really? Have you ever…met a child, Steve?”

“Yes,” Steve had replied, because he had, in fact, met Grace Williams earlier that very day. Also he once held Colonel Matheson’s newborn daughter at a party. For like…a couple minutes, at least. “I’m sure it can’t be too difficult to learn.”

“Uh huh,” Catherine had said, with an air of deep, amused skepticism. She’d had that air a lot, during Steve’s first year with Danny and Grace.

The truth is that he was both right and wrong about it – the job itself wasn’t all that difficult to learn, and in some ways it’s not that different from what he sometimes did as a SEAL: protect and provide for the asset. And he doesn't mean to demean the work or anything, because childcare is not an _easy_ job, but it is a straightforward one, or at least it is for Steve. It's not exactly rocket science to figure out how to make sure the kid eats healthy food and gets to bed on time, is his point.

But in other ways, it’s the most strenuous job Steve’s ever had, and the most rewarding. Easy in practical ways, but impossibly hard in all the others, and nothing at all like Steve had expected, back when he was recently discharged and desperate for anything, _anything_ to do that didn’t involve hurting people.

Grace is thirteen now, so grown up he can’t stand it. Danny says she’s turning into a tiny version of Steve – _God help you both if I hear one whiff – one HINT – of talk about teaching her how to shoot – you know what, don’t even THINK about it, Grace Anne Williams, I can feel you THINKING about it_ – but really, honestly, Steve would never get so lucky. No, Grace is her daddy’s little girl, through and through: protective and warmhearted, anxious and temperamental, prone to dreaminess but with a hard edge of pragmatism that keeps her feet on the ground. Steve likes to think he’s had a tiny bit of influence on the amazing person that she’s turning into, but realistically – most of it, all of it, was Danny, and now what was supposed to be a transitional thing while he buried his dad and got his shit together has turned into a full-time _thing_ that Steve can't picture ever not having.

Danny, who is Steve’s boss. Detective Danny Williams, to be precise, whose first reaction upon meeting Steve was to roll his eyes and ask, “right, Captain America here wants to be my _nanny_ , pull the other one. Did Meka put you up to this? That motherfucker.” He’s loud and combative and thinks Hawaii was put on the earth specifically to make him miserable, and is, quite possibly, the love of Steve’s ridiculous life. 

Not that Steve is ever gonna tell him that; talk about awkward. It’s fine, though. Steve’s used to not getting what he wants, so he can handle it. 

Grace is enough, anyway. Much more than Steve ever expected to get. In that context, it feels almost greedy to ask for more. 

 

 

Back when Steve first started this job, he and Grace worked out a plan for dinner, which essentially boils down to: get it made before Danno gets home. Past experience dictates that nothing good ever comes of Danny getting involved in their meals; Steve still has nightmares about the Lasagna Incident.

Steve’s a pretty good cook, if he does say so himself. Grace thinks his spaghetti is totally bomb, and he can do pretty much anything with a grill. It took him awhile to master pizza, but Grace gave him a recipe journal for Christmas two years ago, and together they’ve perfected the process.

“No, listen, I really think it would work,” Grace says through a mouthful of cheese, sitting cross-legged on the counter, which she’s not technically supposed to do, but Steve never calls her on it. 

“He’s never gonna go for it, Gracie,” Steve protests, checking the pizza in the oven – almost done. 

“Yeah, but if he thinks I wanna start boxing, which is way more dangerous, then he’ll say yes to surfing, because in comparison it’s safer! He’ll even think it was his idea.”

“He’s gonna see right through it!”

“Not if we’re subtle,” says Grace, with a tone suggesting that Steve is being deliberately obtuse. “On second thought, maybe Kono and I should just do it. You’re bad at subtle.”

“I am not,” Steve says, aghast. “I’m – oh, you know what? Nice try. I never should’ve explained the reverse psychology thing to you.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Grace says primly, shoving another handful of cheese into her mouth. Steve bites back a smile, turning back to the stove. “I don’t need your help anyway, my mission only requires one operative to be successful.”

“Oh it does, huh? You got contingency plans, then? Considered all variables and how they’d affect your mission parameters?”

“Um,” Grace says, “sure.”

A noise from the living room cuts off Steve’s amused reply, the unmistakable sounds of Danny grumbling his way through the front door. Grace’s eyes widen and she scrambles off the counter, taking a giant pile of shredded cheese with her. She scowls at Steve as he laughs in surprise, mouthing something he doesn't quite catch but is pretty sure is a physical threat of violence (when Danno's not around, Gracie's kid gloves come off when it comes to the insults, that's for sure).

As usual, Danny is heard before he is seen. “I smell pizza! Pizza without weird stuff on it! Oh, hey,” he says, stopping short in the doorway and squinting at both of them. “Look at this, my two favorite people, making a mess in my kitchen. Are we eating this cheese or using it as a rug?”

“Hey, Danno,” Grace says sweetly. “Welcome home. We’re making pizza. Don’t step on the cheese, you’ll smoosh it into the floor!”

“Hello Monkey, thank you, I see the cheese, I am not stepping on the cheese,” Danny says, gingerly making his way over to plant a sloppy kiss on Grace’s forehead. He’s already got his tie undone, not even two minutes through the door, and he looks damp around the edges, like he’s been left out in the sun too long. Which he probably has. “Steven, is this dinner or performance art, this is good mozzarella we’re wasting here, is it not?”

“Hello Danno, nice to see you Danno,” Steve says, “we had a mishap. Don’t worry about it.”

“’Mishap,’ he says,” Danny grumbles, sweeping some of it into a pile with the edge of his shoe. Grace swats at him, puttering around his feet with a paper towel and a rag, scooping the cheese into little piles and dumping it into the trash. “Story of your life, Steven, I’ll tell you what. Hey, is that pasta salad?”

“It’s veggie pasta salad,” Grace says. Danny wrinkles his nose. “And you have to have some.”

“Aw _man_ – ”

“No veggies, no pizza,” Steve says. “House rules.”

“Oh are those the rules? The rules of my house?”

“Danno,” Grace says, rolling her eyes. “Go change. Steve and I are busy.”

“Yeah, I see how it is, fine. Fine. Oh, just c’mere you, it’s so good to see you, gimme another kiss.” Grace squeals as Danny drags her in, laying more sloppy kisses all over her head. “Okay, I’m good now! I’m good! I’ve had my fill, I know, I’m horrible, worst dad ever, I’m going, I’m gone – ”

“Gracie, c’mon, that was embarrassing,” Steve says, “he left his right side wide open, just leverage your weight, grab his arm and go for his bad knee.”

“Yikes, I surrender,” Danny says, backing up out of the kitchen quickly, hands up. Grace giggles, darting away to the safety of Steve’s side. “Okay, we’ll talk about that later, Steven.”

“What about his instep? I saw that on Miss Congeniality,” Grace asks loudly, tracking Danny’s progress out of the kitchen. 

“Don’t believe everything you see in the movies,” Steve says, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. In the hallway, Danny sighs dramatically and stomps his way up the stairs.

“I’m telling you, it’ll work,” Grace whispers as soon as he’s gone.

“Well, follow your instincts Grace, that's all I'm gonna say,” Steve says, and turns to take the pizza out of the oven.

 

 

Dinner always goes too quickly. Steve always lingers as long as he can, insisting on cleaning up, always taking advantage of any excuse Grace gives him to stick around, which she is always too happy to do. Some nights though, there’s just no reason to. Technically, Steve was off the clock the second Danny stepped through the door.

“Goodnight, Uncle Steve,” Grace says, squeezing his waist tightly and smooshing her face against his chest. Steve squeezes her back, laid breathless by her, as usual. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I won’t be late, I promise.”

“It really is fine, sweetheart,” Steve says with a smile. “Have a good night, okay?”

“Okay,” Grace says simply, like it’s an easy request to grant. For Grace, it probably is. Steve hopes it always will be.

“Alright, homework, shower, bed, c’mon,” Danny interjects, and Grace shuffles away, granting Steve one last smile before she disappears through the doorway. Steve smiles back, looking dopey as hell, he’s sure, judging by the look on Danny’s face. “Thanks for staying, babe. You didn’t have to.”

“I made the pizza, Danny,” Steve points out. “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to partake.”

“Allow? Did I say anything about allowing? As I’ve been so bluntly informed, _I_ don’t make the rules of this house. Apparently.”

“Well, it’s good that you admit it,” Steve replies, leaning against the door frame.

“Uh huh.” Danny shakes his head, rubbing one palm down his jaw. Steve can hear the rasp his skin makes against his five o’clock shadow, and something twists in his gut hotly. He swallows hard against it. “Well, I appreciate it, is all I’m saying. Listen, you drive safe, alright? Text me when you get home.”

“Text you when I get home?” Steve repeats incredulously. “Seriously?”

“What, what, is that unreasonable? Have you been watching the news lately, Steve? This case is the fucking worst, I swear to God, I mean – who hijacks cars for a living? Why is that even a thing? Can’t they just rob a gas station like normal criminals?”

“Less risk,” Steve supplies. “Gas stations have cameras, bars on the windows, panic buttons. You hijack a car, all you’re dealing with is like, somebody’s grandpa – less chance of a payout that’s worth the effort, maybe, but if you get lucky – ”

“Alright, stop,” Danny says, holding out a hand. “Thanks, thank you, for that. You’re a very scary man. Now let me reiterate: text me when you get home. Safely, preferably.”

“Danny,” Steve says, amused and kind of embarrassed about the warm feeling of being cared for. “If I get hijacked, I promise you, all they’re gonna get is a stay in the nearest prison hospital. SEAL, remember?”

“Like you ever let me forget,” Danny sasses. “Just – humor me, Steven.”

“Okay,” Steve says indulgently. “You owe me seventy bucks for the groceries, by the way.”

“Se–seventy bucks?! Did you go to Foodland again? What is wrong with off-brand tomato sauce, for chrissake? Fuck!”

“Night, Danno,” Steve says, grinning.

“Just get out of my house,” Danny complains, but he’s smiling a little, around the edges of his mouth. Steve’s gonna fly all the way home, on that smile. “Don’t get killed. Don’t forget to text me either!”

“I won’t,” Steve promises. Yeah, the smile, and the worry – that’ll last him awhile. The little hint of collarbone peeking out beneath the collar of Danny’s t-shirt is just a bonus. 

“Animal,” Danny says affectionately.


End file.
